


Message In A Bottle

by Ook



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Being a telepath means you never need to worry about consent, Creepy, Creepy Porn, Dark!Charles, Did I mention the non-con?, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Mindfuck, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Somnophilla, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, The author is a disturbed little soul, Therapy, non con, of a sort, oh so much, telepaths are a menace and must be stopped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ook/pseuds/Ook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lensherr, metalokinetic with anger management problems,  talks to his regular therapist, Charles Xavier, about his disturbing dreams.</p><p> </p><p>Deeply unfortunate things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Message in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who liked Bedroom Tour; here, have a very creepy Charles! Enjoy!

Charles Xavier looked up from his notes as his favourite anger-management issues case came in. He closed the folder unhurriedly. Erik was squinting in the bright light from the window, and so Charles turned and began to close the blinds, letting Erik study the layout of the room before making his choice of seating arrangements… as usual. Erik looked at the charies, and the couch, and at Charles seated behind the fine (if large) old desk that had belonged to his father before him.

“Hello, Mr Lehnsherr.” He said, calmly. “How are you feeling today?” Erik scratched his head, and said nothing. Charles laid aside his pen and folded his hands on the desktop, calmly. He waited, giving Eriik the time and space he needed to feel comfortable in replying.  
“Same as usual, I suppose.” Erik said, eventually, and moved to sit on the couch. Not lie. He never laid down on it; Charles had noticed, preferring to remain upright and alert at all times.  
“Hmm.” Charles said, mildly. A minor spasm of emotion raced across Erik’s face; anger, harshly reined in.

Ah, yes, that was it, wasn’t it? Charles thought. The neutral listening noise he used to reassure a patient that he was being heard, listened to, without judgement. Mr Erik Lehnsherr _hated_ it. He’d never said anything, but any therapist, let alone a telepath, could tell. The spark of anger and the fierce control had always intrigued Charles. It made for a good beginning.  
“I- I’ve been having some dreams.” Erik said, abruptly. He pinked up, flushing beautifully, Charles thought.  
“Dreams?” Charles said, after a pause. “Can you tell me more?” Erik mumbled, and Charles held back a stab of impatience. Slowly. Carefully. He had to wait, to let Erik come to him…

“I- they’re quite; um, explicit.” Erik said, quickly. He squeezed his hands together, in his lap, tensely.  
“This is a safe space, Mr Lensherr.” Charles said, gravely. “Everything that happens in here, stays here.”  
“Confidentiality.” Erik murmured, faintly ironic.  
“Quite.” There was more silence. Charles felt himself quivering, slightly, in anticipation.  
“These dreams.” Erik said, staring at the pot plant in the corner. “It’s like they’re trying to say something.” He shifted, awkwardly.

“You feel they have a message for you?” Charles said, trying not to tremble. Erik’s eyes flicked towards him, before his gaze dropped back to his lap. His eyes widened, slightly.  
“Not for me…” Erik said, slurring slightly. His gaze swung up to focus on Charles. Charles leant forwards.  
“Your dreams are for someone else?” He said, gently. Erik nodded, dreamily. “Can you tell me who?” Erik sighed, and slumped.  
“You, maybe.” he said, slowly. Charles smiled, triumphant and certain. Now. _Now._  
“And what message, Mr Lensherr.” He said, softly. “Do your dreams have for me today?”

Erik exploded out of his seated position like the unleashed wrath of God. Charles blinked, mildly surprised, as Erik stormed around the desk, and seized him, arm and neck, in a grip that might well have been unbreakable. Not that Charles was going to try. Erik, eyes blazingly alight with rage, dragged his therapist from his seat and flung him onto the floor between the desk and the couch. Charles sprawled, painfully. Warily, he began to try and get up, shivering with the intensity of it all. Erik only allowed him to get to his knees before he was on him again, dragging him forwards to kneel before the couch.

“I-“ he blurted, even as he slapped Charles across the face, and sat down, knees wide, in front of him. “I don’t know-“  
Erik’s hands were quick, as was his power, to drag Charles into position, and hold him there, paperclips fastening Charles’s wrists to his belt, hands wrenching Charles’ mouth open as Erik’s jeans unbuttoned themselves.  
“I can’t stop-“ Erik said, even as he shoved his cock into Charles’s waiting mouth. “I- Stop me, please. Stop me.” He begged, desperately. Charles smiled around Erik’s hardness- always so delicious- and began to suck. Erik groaned.

As he choked on Erik’s admittedly lovely cock, Charles felt an exquisite shiver go through him. He listened to Erik’s frantic begging and apologies, intermixed now with moans and grunts of pleasure. _Well._ Charles thought to himself. The self-awareness is new. What a delightful refinement. He’d never have thought of himself. He swirled his tongue up and down the erection, in his mouth, half choking with the force of Erik’s thrusts. Erik made a hoarse, coughing noise, and Charles looked up to see a tear roll down his face. He smirked, reduoubling his efforts. As Erik came, spasming in pleasure, down Charles’ throat, the first tear was joined by others.

Charles drank down every drop Erik had, greedily; come and tears alike. He swallowed slowly and in deep satisfaction. Erik continued to shudder, even after his orgasm had ceased. Charles let the softened, clean penis slip out of his mouth, and sat back on his heels, quietly. Erik put his head in his hands.  
“Release me.” Charles said, emotionlessly. The paperclip wires slid from his wrists. “And fasten your jeans.” The jeans re-buttoned themselves. Slowly, Charles stood. He reached for the box of tissues, and wiped his face, neatly. Then he tucked them into Erik’s hand.

“I don’t understand.” Erik said, still frantic and broken. “Why I did- that.” He blotted his tears with the tissues and looked up at Charles, bewildered.  
“You’re a telepath.” He said, sounding lost. “Why didn’t you stop me?” Charles smiled, and put the tip of his finger under Erik’s chin, using it to tilt Erik’s face up. He kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. Erik didn’t resist.  
“Because, Mr Lensherr.” Charles murmured, into Erik’s slackening mouth, as he put the fingers of his other hand to his temple. “I didn’t want to.”

 

Erik drifted back from his brief absence to find Charles looking at him patiently.  
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. His voice felt thick with tears.  
“You don’t need to apologise.” Charles said, warmly. “I feel we’ve made real progress today.”  
“I- It’s difficult.” Erik said, helplessly, and put the crumpled and damp tissues in his pocket.  
“Yes. But remember, this is a safe space, Mr Lensherr.” Charles said, soothingly. “Everything that happens in here, stays here.” Erik smiled, faintly. “I’m afraid that’s all for today.” Charles said, regretfully.  
“See you next week, then.” Erik said, as he stood.

 

As soon as he was gone, Charles bolted the door and practically ripped open his trousers. Keeping his arousal concealed had never been more difficult; he was practically hard enough to hammer nails. Charles groaned and he began to stroke himself, setting up a harsh, rapid rhythm as he re ran the scene that had just happened past his mind’s eye. Charles allowed himself to truly _taste_ the dark and sharply tangled mix of Erik’s desire, so gloriously contaminated with shame and fear and- His thumb slipped, slightly, and he came, sharply, spattering the desk and floor with his come. He panted for breath.

 _You really outdid yourself this time, my dear._ He sent, still humming with satisfaction. Emma’s response was swift.  
 _Thank you. I do hope you were able to cope-_  
 _Of course._ Charles sent indignantly. _He’s a metal bender, but he’s no telepath._  
 _Of course._ Emma laughed in his head. _Well in that case, what message have you given him for me this time?_  
 _Wait and see._ Charles said, idly deflecting her probe. _Wait and see._


	2. A Long Tall Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma gets a message from Charles.

Erik Lensherr hummed as he hurried up the stairs towards his apartment. Somehow, even if they were… difficult at the time; he always left his therapy sessions feeling a little better; drained, tired maybe, but somehow…better. As if there was still something he could find worth doing, as if the world was not merely an ugly swamp filled with stupid people. A sense of focus, maybe, or purpose. Whatever it was, it was the main reason he went back; to sit in Dr Xavier’s’ just-so office and listen to that just-so accent say very little.

He smiled at his neighbour; the one who’s name he could never remember. She nodded at him, gracefully. Erik tried not to stare. Today she was wearing slightly less than usual; a tight white slinky top and something pretending to be a skirt. Erik generally preferred men to women, but some things were worth looking at whatever their gender.  
“Any messages for me, Erik?” she said. Erik blinked. He turned towards her, automatically.  
“What?”  
“I said; do you have a message for me from Charles, Erik Lehnserr?”

Erik’s mind went blank.

 

Emma gritted her teeth and tried not to scream as Erik- dear, devoted, currently-mindless Erik- began carefully working her- with his tongue and his hands and his metal toys, dear God- back up towards orgasm. For the fifth time. He, or Charles, really, hadn’t let her actually come once yet. He ignored his own raging erection; just as well. Emma had no intention of helping him enjoy himself. That was Charles’s job.  
 _It’s more a privilege, dear._ Charles said, as Erik kissed her breasts, sucking at her nipples untill she shuddered.

 _Damn you, Charles._ she said. _I have to clock watch during these games, too._ Charles laughed, silently.  
 _It’s late; put him straight to sleep after a shower, he won’t notice the time. Not if you know how to make him ignore it._ Emma cursed. Erik began kissing his way down her stomach. The little metal toy Erik had slid home inside her back at the beginning, and then perfectly shaped to her desires, began vibrating again.  
 _It’s no more of a challenge than making him forget forcing a blowjob out of his therapist._ Charles said, mildly. 

Emma forgot herself enough to grab at Erik’s short, auburn hair as he began to move away from her groin. He looked up at her blankly, and- for a terrible moment- the little toy stopped.  
 _Ah, ah ah!_ Charles teased her, _That’s not in the rules!_  
 _Rules?_ Emma released Erik, and after a pause, he began moving again, like an automaton.  
 _No interfering with each other’s messages._ Charles said like a kindly teacher. 

_Unless you want to give in, and admit I’m better at this-_  
 _Fuck you._ Emma retorted, and bit back another scream.  
 _Oh, I’d prefer it if Erik here did that._ Charles said. _Don’t worry._ he soothed her. _He will let you come eventually._  
 _Oh?_ Emma sent back. When?  
 _Eventually._ Charles said, and vanished from the conversation. Emma snarled.

If she broke the rules, and forced Erik to make her come; any mess that came about from playing with his mind would be for her to deal with alone. Also, Charles would laugh at her. Self control was very important for telepaths, of course, and to let a Message erode it so- it was not to be thought of. Yet, if Charles had loaded Erik with too long a message, Emma might not be able to keep him from growing suspicious at the amount of time he was missing. And that would be a mess she might have to ask for Charles’ help over, as well.

Also, after being worked on so thoroughly by Erik Lensherr for at least an hour, Emma really, really wanted- no, **needed** \- to come. To the point where that need, and its fulfilment had to be considered as a threat to her control of her own powers. Emma did not want to broadcast anything; but it was getting harder and harder.  
“Charles. You are such a vicious bastard when you’re riled.” She said aloud. Erik didn’t stop moving. Emma ran her fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have made you cry, I suppose.”

 

Erik stared dully at the shower curtain. He felt exhausted. His face ached, and he felt itchy and vaguely grimy, even after the soap had rinsed away. He thought about jerking off, but somehow the idea seemed... unwelcome. Odd. Erik wondered why he felt so low now, when he’d had his session with Xavier earlier. Usually the lift lasted at least a day. He didn’t know what time it was, but it felt… late. He yawned. .Well, they were working towards something significant, really. That’s what Charles had said. Perhaps he should see about upping his sessions to twice-weekly.


	3. Fill the Bottle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik Lensherr dreams. He probably won't remember it, in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened. Not sure if it will go any further.

Tucked up in his bed, safe in his apartment, behind far too many locked doors and security alarm circuits, Erik Lensherr dreamed again. Behind their guarding lids his eyes flickered back and forth rapidly. Sometimes he shifted in his sleep, or made little noises. Nothing anyone in the flat- which was empty, apart from Erik- would have noticed as unusual. Not that these dreams were in any way unusual, for Erik, now.

Erik muttered, deep in his throat, and rolled onto his back. The sheets slipped away, but the chill of air on his bare skin didn’t wake him. Someone was touching him. He could not see them, or anything else, but he was not afraid. A drowsy, dreamy numbness soothed him, even as the touches began to drift from casual exploration into sensual caresses. Had he been awake, he might have moaned.

Slowly, need and desire began to smoulder under his skin. He arched his back, pushing his hips forwards in search of more sensation. The touches did not change in pace or location, but, above him, far away, someone laughed. A hand slid down his flank and drifted across to his inner thighs. Erik’s legs spread themselves almost of their own accord. There was more laughter, up above. Erik sighed. He didn’t mind the laughing; another way to tell this was a dream.

There were more hands, too. That was more than one person, touching him. Touching him all over, hands… perhaps tongues… moving over his skin in slow and sensual certainty of their access rights. Erik’s skin, Erik’s sensations, belonged to them, however they wanted. Of that, Erik felt completely convinced, even as something- teeth?- fingernails? He could not be sure what, precisely scraped across his chest, tormenting first one and then the other nipple. 

Erik groaned at the soft, slow, relentless touch continued. He made a slight whining noise; the closest he was able to come to speaking aloud. He was hard, and he… he needed something.  
 _Me._  
Yes, he needed someone, please, he needed…  
 _Yes, you do._  
 _Please_ , Erik thought, hopefully. _Please_. The laughter happened again. 

_Very well. Since you’ve been so good…_  
Now the hands, and mouths and... things sped up. Touches became harder, rougher and so much _more._ Erik grunted, thickly, unable to shout or cry out loud. Erik wanted to touch himself, to raise a hand and grip his cock, but- it was a dream- he couldn’t. He was asleep, dreaming. Erik couldn’t do anything except lie there, and be played with. One of them laughed. Erik moaned again.

He was frantic, rock hard and dripping by the time someone finally, finally touched his cock. Erik made a garbled noise, the loudest sound he was allowed to make. Someone made soothing sounds, again far way above him. His cock was squeezed, almost too roughly, but even the pleasure-pain evoked added to the fire; any touch there, any touch at all, was better than nothing. The squeezing turned into firm, regular strokes; Erik could have sobbed aloud with the relief, if he had been allowed.

 _Come for me._  
Erik made the garbled noise again, and convulsed, wracked with pleasure, as he obeyed, shooting messy and hot and wet, and so, so good, all over his own belly and the sheets below him.  
 _So good…_ Erik thought, dreamy and blissful. He lay, spent and limp, sweaty and panting, until his sweat and other fluids began to chill and congeal. Idly, he wished he could at least cover himself, or wipe himself off, but no. He was dreaming. He wasn’t allowed to move yet.

_No, not yet. Go to sleep. Sleep and forget._

Obedient, as always, Erik drifted deeper into the warm, smothering dark. The dream was over. It was time to go to sleep.


End file.
